Author: Heather (she/her/hers)

When I walk outdoors in the dead of winter and turn to be among the trees, the smell is heady and heavy. It is unique to the old growth of pine, fir and cedar, and the spongy moss that covers everything. It is unique to the ferns this time of year as well- darker in… Continue reading Miraculous, Messy Mortality

Oh, the post-Christmas doldrums. I used to think they weren't avoidable. I would spend the weeks after New Years busying myself so I didn't have to feel my sadness. And while I love the New Year with its shiny possibilities and opportunity for a new start, the high of a fresh January would only last… Continue reading Post-Advent

There will come a day this winter when looking outside at 4:30pm to darkness will cause me to feel stir crazy. But that day is not tonight, and this evening’s deep purple sky is feeding my weary bones, wrapping fleece around them and stirring up a contented sigh. I long for this dark part of… Continue reading Advent: Meaning in the Darkness

My daughter and I spent the day waffling in and out of fever and lounging on the couch while we watched guilty pleasure shows tv. It is interesting, having a child old enough to do this with. Like being sick with a friend and not a child. The day rolled along slowly. My son was… Continue reading Advent Day 3: Influenza

I have an exciting offering to share! I am teaching a series of three classes through The Companioning Center starting at the end of January. The series will build upon each class, starting with the examination of the hidden self through inner child work, the enneagram, artistic expression, and play in a class titled Opening… Continue reading Opening Your Story

Tomorrow is the first day of Advent, and my body aches with some sneaky, persistent virus that has finally caught up to me. Perhaps those two facts are related, and perhaps they’re not related at all. But let’s say they are, because it fits my narrative. You see, being a mom and a teacher during… Continue reading Advent Astonishments

I’m looking at the almost thirty-year-old gazebo that stands in our backyard, and once again contemplating its fate. It’s sturdy, albeit with a small roof leak that drips when it’s pouring rain. It’s in desperate need of a fresh coat of white paint, and that I can give it. But it leans slightly to one… Continue reading Invitations

For mothers sending children into the world A mother’s milk doesn’t trickle in in the hours after her newborn slips or tears out of her body. Her breasts don’t fill slowly to meet the need. Her infant’s suckle does not call forth A gentle swelling. No. The filling is sudden, an explosion of heat and… Continue reading A Poem of Grief